


we'll take our chances

by returnsandreturns



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: ETA: OKAY NOW THERE'S GYM SEX, F/M, Girl!Foggy, Maybe - Freeform, Self-Defense, a little praise kink, a little tiny hint of sub Matt, did I watch some questionable boxing ring porn to write this, maybe I did, there is no gym sex but there should be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 14:14:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5093720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returnsandreturns/pseuds/returnsandreturns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“How about you teach me how to punch, then, for real,” she says. “A little vigilante self-defense 101.”</p><p>“. . .just for self-defense?” Matt asks.</p><p>“What, you think I want to become your sidekick or something? No, thanks, I love myself too much. I just want to be a legitimate threat to creepy guys at bars, honestly,” she says. “I’m not as quick with my mace as Karen is.”</p><p>“. . .yeah. Yeah, I could do that,” Matt says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so many girl!Foggy feelings, honestly
> 
> this doesn't develop them that far but it's a little slice of it
> 
> written for the prompt: _we saw a lot of (amazing!) fills for the matt being protective of female foggy request, but now i want to see the opposite. female foggy being protective of matt (possibly culminating in her punching someone out)_
> 
>  
> 
> _+++if foggy hurts her hand from the punch and matt then teaches her how to punch properly_

Foggy’s wrapped up in her warmest coat, which is her only coat because they’re so very broke and can’t afford extravagances like multiple coats, and she’s headed home after staying late to tie up a few loose ends with their latest case. Matt left before the sun went down, looking shifty when Karen inquired about his plans, which probably means he was headed home to put on his teflon footie pajamas and fight crime.

She pulls out her phone to call him, leave a dumb voicemail for him to listen to after he gets back home from saving the neighborhood, when she hears her name echoing, a tinny electronic noise, from the alley between two apartment buildings right in front of her. Her head spins because Matt’s been found almost dead like ten times this year alone, and what if this one’s the kicker, what if his neck is _broken_ in a _dumpster_ because he’s an idiot with a hero complex and eyes that are bigger than his stomach, in extralegal street fighting terms.

She toes out of her heels, leaving them on the sidewalk to dash into the alley and discover a thankfully, mostly alive Matt in some type of very intimate battle with what might be a ninja.

 _It’s so hard to tell who’s a ninja these days,_ she thinks, a little hysterically.

Matt’s in what appears to be a fancy headlock, struggling to breathe, getting little rasps of air that Foggy can hear from the other end of the alley. Before Foggy can think about the fact that she’s probably a crime statistic waiting to happen, she drops her bag and runs forward.

“ _No_ ,” Matt gasps out, and the guy he’s fighting turns enough that Foggy gets a really great angle when she hauls back and punches him as hard as she can in the face.

“Ow, ow, _shit fuck_ ,” she hisses, dancing away as the guy falls, caught by surprise. Matt hits him again for good measure, his head bouncing against the concrete, before rounding on Foggy, running hands over her arms like he’s checking to make sure she’s really there.

“Are you okay?” he asks, reaching fingers up to brush over her hair—which, wow, yeah, good to know she still gets a little swoony over Matt. It hibernates sometimes but it’s still buried deep down there, ol’ reliable.

“Yeah, sure,” she says, weakly. “I mean, I think maybe I broke my whole entire hand? But other than that, doing great.”

Matt’s hand slides down her arm to take hers gently, lifting the fingers one by one.

“I think you’re just going to have a bruise, except for. . .” he draws off, tracing a finger over her thumb, and she lets out a sharp noise. “Sorry. Your thumb’s probably sprained, at least. Did you tuck it into your fist? Who taught you to punch?”

“Uhm, nobody,” she says, “because I’m a girl and also had a normal childhood.”

“Fair point,” Matt says, smiling wryly. He lets go of Foggy’s hand just to take her other one, and she lets him move her fingers around, thumb pressed up against the side, until she’s making what she assumes is an acceptable fist.

“Well,” she says, flexing her fingers out once he lets go. “Next time I’ll be ready, then.”

“Oh, there’s not going to be a next time,” Matt says.

“. . .because you’re going to murder me in this alley, once and for all?”

“Because you’re not going to spend any time in alleys ever again,” Matt says. “That was a bad decision.”

Foggy gapes at him before realizing he probably won’t get the full effect.

“That’s pretty rich coming from you, _Daredevil_ ,” she says, resting a hand on her hip. “See if I ever save you from a ninja again.”

“Look, I appreciate it, Foggy, but I don’t need you to save me,” he says. “I need you _safe_.”

He looks honestly ridiculous in his Daredevil get-up, the little horns just the icing on the cake of the whole deal, but the earnestness in his voice makes Foggy want to wrap a blanket around him and bake him cookies—like some fucked up maternal instinct.

“How about you teach me how to punch, then, for real,” she says. “A little vigilante self-defense 101.”

“. . . _just_ for self-defense?” Matt asks.

“What, you think I want to become your sidekick or something? No, thanks, I love myself too much. I just want to be a legitimate threat to creepy guys at bars, honestly,” she says. “I’m not as quick with my mace as Karen is.”

“. . .yeah. Yeah, I could do that,” Matt says.

Behind them, the possible ninja stirs and groans.

“Go home." Matt brushes a hand over her arm. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

On her way home, she calls Matt to leave the voicemail: "Wait, was that actually a ninja?" When she wakes up the next morning, she has one in return that's just Matt saying, "Who even knows anymore." 

*

They make plans to start after Foggy’s hand stops hurting, so, a couple of weeks later, Foggy stuffs clothes to change into in her bag before she comes into work.

She changes into a t-shirt and a pair of yoga pants that she bought with Karen when they were going to try to be people who do yoga, in an effort to find their inner peace after everything with Fisk. It didn't work, because they just ended up laying down on the mats in the middle of the office and wildly speculating about the weird noises that keep coming from the offices downstairs while Matt sat cross-legged on the floor nearby, pretending to meditate but secretly laughing at them. 

She bounces out of her office, angling a gentle punch to Matt's arm, which he graciously allows.

"Gonna kick some ass," she says.

"Only if you're in imminent danger and nobody else is nearby," Matt replies, sternly.

"Gonna punch the patriarchy in the face," she continues, ignoring him, and Matt sighs as if he's the most put-upon person in the history of the world before taking her arm as they walk towards the stairs. He pauses a step or two outside their door, stopping to touch the fraying sleeve of the Columbia Law t-shirt she's wearing. 

He inclines his head towards Foggy when he asks, "Is that my shirt?" 

Foggy glances down to be sure, but there's no way a t-shirt that would fit Matt "Jesus Died For Your Sins And Also My Abdominal Muscles" Murdock wouldn't be stretched to hell by her boobs and certified ab-free stomach. 

"Nope," she says. "I. . . _kind_ of threw out all the comfy dude clothes I stole from you in a fit of emotion after the fight we don't talk about anymore because both of us will cry." 

"It smells like me," Matt says, a weird little smile slipping across his face, kind of like when Foggy makes a joke while they're in court and he's trying not to laugh at it. 

"That is the smell of codependency, buddy," she says, bumping her hip against his gently. Her eyes might get a little misty because, whatever, she has feelings and they're just starting to be okay together again and she  _missed_  Matt. She doesn't like being weird with him. Matt curls his fingers a little tighter around her arm as they keep walking, even though, now that she thinks of it, he doesn't really need to hold onto her at all. 

*

Matt teaches her how to wrench herself out of holds without hurting herself, where to step and press and jab to buy herself time and cause the most pain. They start on one of the punching bags but it’s hard to conceptualize, so eventually Matt pulls her into the ring and lets her practice on him. They spar a little when it’s the middle of the night and they’re both kind of punch drunk, even though she doesn’t know what she’s doing and Matt won’t do more than tickle her.

Right now, while he’s laughing at her fake fighting noises, Foggy tries to throw a punch and catch him off guard but Matt blocks it, because of course he does. Somehow, though, in her infinite grace, she manages to trip over him and drag him down with her so they end up in a tangle of limbs on the mat. 

Matt's grinning, shifting off of her so he's straddling her hips, pushed up on his arms. 

"I see you fell for my clever trick of pretending to be incompetent," Foggy says, trying not to look at Matt's mouth and failing magnificently. She wonders if he can hear it in her heartbeat. That whole thing’s really inconvenient. 

Matt's smile doesn't go away but it changes, shifts a little so it's loose and soft. 

"You  _probably_ shouldn't let someone you're fighting get you on the ground," he says, like a joke, a little nudge. 

"Right, right," she says, sitting up on her elbows, "because they might take, uh, advantage of my vulnerability.”

That’s one way of putting it.

"Right," Matt agrees, voice breaking a little.

Foggy thinks that maybe Matt is going to kiss her.

It's not the first time, both thinking that Matt was going to kiss her and Matt actually kissing her, because college happened and alcohol happened and sometimes lips just touch lips. It's human nature. It's never meant much, always been that kind of instinctual, lizard brain stuff they don’t mention the next morning. Kissing feels nice and nobody knows how to talk about their damn feelings and it’s _fine._

They're not drunk now, though, and Matt's shifting on top of her and Foggy is absolutely not going to look to see if he's hard right now because she is  _classy_. She is a respectable lawyer who is definitely not thinking about her law partner's dick in sweatpants and, oh, god, Matt can probably smell that she's wet. Like whenever it happens but specifically  _right now._

"Matt," she says.

"Foggy,” Matt replies.

". . .yeah, I'm just gonna kiss you because this whole situation is  _ridiculous_ ," she says, a rush of words before she's sliding a hand in Matt's hair to tug him down into a kiss. Matt groans into her mouth, spine curving underneath her hand finding purchase on his back as he pours himself into it. They kiss in relative silence, just soft moans until Matt’s leg slips between her thighs and Foggy pulls away with a gasp.

She lays her head back against the mat for a long moment, until Matt rolls off of her to lay beside her, so their arms are touching. Foggy reaches over to thread their fingers together.

“Heat of the moment?” she asks.

“No,” Matt says, squeezing her hand. “I—I’ve wanted to do that.”

“Yeah?”

Instead of answering, Matt pushes himself on one elbow to lean in and kiss her again, long and sweet, one hand cupping her face.

“Okay, okay, I surrender,” she says, when they break apart. She pushes him back down to lay her head against his chest, curling up against him. There’s barely any heat in this place, and it’s cold when they’re not moving. “You should really make out with your enemies, it’s a great distraction.”

“I’ll think about it,” Matt says.

“You do that,” she replies, sleepily. “Now, please take me home, because I want to do dirty things to you in the morning and I don’t think this place has been cleaned since 1937.”

Matt presses a kiss to her hair.

“In a few minutes,” he says, pulling her closer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AMENDED TO INCLUDE SOME GYM PORN, BECAUSE I COULDN'T NOT: 
> 
> “Condom?” she asks, but Matt’s already pulling one out of his pocket. Foggy grins, presses it to Matt’s cheek so he can feel it. “Oh, I see. You just lured me here to live out your lurid sex fantasies. This wasn’t about me learning to defend myself at all.” 
> 
> “Can’t it be both?” Matt asks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't even really write porn before this fandom, what's even happening to me

Slowly, Foggy has graduated to actually play fighting Matt in the ring at his gym, imitating his motions and trying to gauge the right reactions. Tonight, Matt’s been throwing punches that won’t connect, so Foggy can practice dodging.

She’s mostly terrible at it, but, an hour in, Foggy finally steps out of the way in time. She sweeps out her leg to trip Matt as he stumbles forward, and it _works_. He goes down and she gapes at him, sprawled out and grinning below her.

“Whoa, am I _better_ than you now?” she asks, and Matt laughs, loud in the empty room.

“Absolutely,” he says, reaching up to grab her wrist and pull her down on top of him.

“Oh, no,” Foggy says, very seriously, against his mouth. “You’re turned on by violence, aren’t you? God, it explains so much, especially the gimp outfit— _oh_.”

Matt slides his hand up the inside of her thigh to press fingers to her clit through the fabric of her sweatpants, which is really, just, zero to sixty in ten seconds flat. Matt’s like that sometimes, she’s figured out. They’ve been at this for about two months, and sometimes it’s half an hour of foreplay and sometimes they’re fucking over the bathroom sink before Foggy’s even finished brushing her teeth in the morning and, honestly, it’s all spectacular. She’s a big fan of the variety.

Matt asks, in that voice she particularly likes, “Have you revisited your decision on taking off your pants here?”

“Hmm,” Foggy says, fighting a smile. “I could be convinced.”

Matt’s grin is sharp and sweet.

“Door’s locked,” he says, free hand sliding up her thigh to rest low on her back, rubbing little circles under her tank top. “Nobody but us here.”

“No curtains on those windows,” Foggy says, no longer resisting the urge to rub down against Matt’s hand when he cups her through sweatpants. “You exhibitionist.”

“Better be quick, then.”

Before she can react, Matt’s lifting her up and shifting so she’s straddling one of his thighs, low heat and a groan as she slides up it before she steadies herself with hands on his shoulders.

“Sure this is okay?” Matt asks, fingertips under her waistband.

“Yep, yes, A-Okay,” Foggy says, because she’s about two seconds from really going to town on Matt’s thigh if something doesn’t happen soon. She makes a noise that she could only categorize as desperate when Matt pulls down her sweatpants so they’re caught at her knees, running a big hand over her ass.

“Condom?” she asks, but Matt’s already pulling one out of his pocket. Foggy grins, presses it to Matt’s cheek so he can feel it. “Oh, I see. You just lured me here to live out your lurid sex fantasies. This wasn’t about me learning to defend myself at all.”

“Can’t it be both?” Matt asks, and Foggy moves enough to let him get his pants unzipped and pulled down. His dick brushes up against her thigh and Matt makes a low, pleased noise, pulling Foggy closer to press his face into her hair and breathe in.

“Are you smelling me, weirdo,” she murmurs, turning his face to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Yeah, I was,” he says, voice a little drugged. “God, Foggy, you’ve been so wet since we got here. Just from me touching you. I can smell it everywhere.”

Foggy blushes, and apparently Matt can sense that, too, or just knows her too well, because he runs rough fingers over her cheeks to feel the warmth there.

“I love it, Fog,” he says, reaching up to pull her into a kiss.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Foggy says, when they pull apart, “but I’ve kinda got a thing for you.”

“Prove it?” Matt asks, holding the condom up, and Foggy snorts and takes it. She shifts down Matt’s body to sit close to his knees, leaning down to lick once up Matt’s dick just to hear him shout, jostling her when his body jerks. She puts the condom on him slowly, fingers wrapped loosely as she pulls it down. She strokes Matt a couple of times, until he’s gasping and saying, “ _Please_ ,” because he knows she likes when he tells her how much he wants it.

“I’m going to be pissed if I get tetanus or something after this, from your weird old man gym,” she murmurs, and Matt’s laughing when she slowly starts to sink down onto his dick. His laugh chokes off into a moan, one of his hands curling around her waist before going further to cup one of her breasts through her shirt and sports bra.

“You feel so good,” Matt says, practically _coos_ because Matt always goes sweet and mellow when she’s on top of him, blissed out. When Foggy’s full, she moves a little, lifting herself up experimentally to hear the ragged moan it pulls out of Matt when she presses back down.

She rides him slowly for a couple of minutes while he smooths a hand over her back, keeping silent rhythm with the rise and fall of her body, making soft little noises that Foggy bends down to kiss out of his mouth.

“You gonna make me do all the work here, Murdock?” she asks, turning to nose against his cheek, and Matt smiles.

“Want me to carry my weight?” he asks.

“I mean, _my_ weight,” she says, settling down again, hands spread out on his chest. She’s about to start moving again, any second now, really, when all of a sudden Matt’s wrapping arms around her and getting to his feet. She kicks off her sweatpants where they were still hanging around her legs and clings to him, gasping against his neck.

“Like this?” he asks.

“That works,” Foggy says, and then they’re pressed up against the ropes. Matt tries to fuck her like that but Foggy starts laughing, bordering on hysterical. Matt makes a questioning noise and Foggy says, between giggles, “I appreciate the visual imagery of this but it is _so much more_ uncomfortable now that it’s actually happening.”  

“Right,” Matt says, voice warm and amused before he carefully deposits her on the ground and crawls back over her body to drape himself over her, pulling her into a kiss while she’s still laughing. These are some kisses with serious intent, until Foggy’s writhing just from the feel of his mouth on hers and considering asking him to put it to better use.

“I’m going to need you to get back inside me in five seconds or I’m putting my pants back on,” she says, instead, and Matt nods hastily, muttering, “ _Yes, ma’am_ ,” a little dryly under his breath. Which is—yeah, okay, that doesn’t do _nothing_ for her, if they’re going to be real.

He runs both of his hands up Foggy’s thighs, always pays them special attention because he knows she’s weird about them, sometimes, and pulls her legs apart. She wraps them around his waist when he slides back into her, so easily because she’s still embarrassingly wet and ready for him, almost always is.

“Yeah, good, Matt,” she says, not expecting her voice to already be so fucked out even though he’s already fucking her in earnest, no other noises than cars passing outside and their bodies moving together and Foggy’s strangled growl of, “Touch me, you’ve got to touch me.”

Matt slips a hand between them, clumsily finds her clit before he’s pressing down with two fingers and Foggy’s choking down a shout. Matt’s good at this once he gets going, knows the right pressure and speed and is so beautifully talented at multi-tasking, keeping up a rhythm that has Foggy panting, “Oh, god, Matt, _oh_ , good boy, so good,” into his ear because it makes Matt _whine_.

She’s coming before she even realizes, bucking up underneath him as his fingers speed up and she sobs out something that almost resembles his name but is mostly just vowels. Matt slows down, barely moving inside of her, finger just brushing over her clit as she shudders and finally whispers, “Okay, okay, too much, wow.”

She reaches down to take Matt’s hand, pointedly ignoring how wet it is to lace their fingers together and hold on.

“Let me know when I can keep going,” he says, leaning in to press their foreheads together. He stays inside of her, so, so patient for her, making a quiet happy noise when her fingernails scratch over his scalp.

Foggy runs her free hand through his hair for a minute or two before she tugs a little, saying, “Go ahead,” and Matt presses a messy kiss to her forehead before he starts to fuck her again in short, frantic thrusts. She squeezes his hand tighter, still sensitive, nerves sparking everywhere.

He says, “Foggy, _Foggy_ ,” fingers running over her stomach, squeezing one of her hips as he thrusts hard once before he’s coming,  burying his face in her neck to breathe in against her skin. He doesn’t let go of her hand until he’s pulling out and moving to tug her so she’s pressed against his chest, arms around her.

“Pants,” Foggy says, half-heartedly swiping a hand towards where her sweatpants are lying.

“Mmm,” Matt replies, vaguely. He’s still fully dressed, so clearly that’s not his priority, but Foggy’s caught between well-fucked and freezing. She ignores the noise of protest that Matt makes in his throat when she crawls away to grab them and shimmy back into them without standing up, before collapsing back on top of him.

“Has your disgusting gym fetish been satisfied?” she asks, softly.

“Yes,” he says, not even joking. “Thank you.”

“My literal pleasure, pal,” she murmurs, pressing her lips against his jaw for a moment before tucking her head against his chest. They probably have a couple of hours before they really need to leave, and tomorrow’s Saturday. No office, no crime fighting. Brunch, maybe. She starts to ask Matt if he wants to get brunch only to find that he’s already asleep.

Feeling accomplished, Foggy fishes her phone from her pocket to set an alarm. Then, she joins him.

**Author's Note:**

> detectivekatebishop on tumblr, say words at me if you want


End file.
